


a(bun)dance

by calcifie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drabble, Gen, food descriptions?, really short fic ahahah ;;, sunday market AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 17:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcifie/pseuds/calcifie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikasa spends her weekend at the Sunday market.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a(bun)dance

**Author's Note:**

> yes hello gratuitous food descriptions ahoy

If there was one thing that Mikasa loved to do, it was indulging herself in food.

She kept herself on a strict exercise routine, but she always had a healthy appetite for savoury and sweet delights.

The Sunday market was her preferred place to get her fix of gourmet dishes she couldn’t find in the supermarket, or make herself.

The market was lined with stalls decorated with hand-painted signs. White tarpaulin tents shielded the hawkers and their goods from the early summer sun. The fresh smell of the cut grass under Mikasa’s feet mixed with the enticing scents that wafted from the displays.

Aromatic smells permeated the air. A fragrant blend of tealeaves came from a stall that sold exotic brews from China, while the aroma of freshly baked baumkuchen and other European baked goods came from another.

Mikasa took her time wandering through the rows. Each delectable treat did not only smell delicious but also looked mouth watering. The thin apple slivers that embellished the top of one tart were carefully laid out to look like the petals of a camellia. A latte handed to a young man had a foam cat made out of milk decorating its surface.

Those who had crafted each item were artisans in their own right, and Mikasa relished in the vibrancy that floated around her.

Her stomach growled a bit.

It was time for her to finally grab a bite after all the appreciation.

She made her way back to bake stall she saw when she first walked in. Mikasa was debating if she was in the mood custard filled blueberry danish or a milk-cream strudel, when the baker spoke to her.

“May I suggest the _pan au chocolat_? It’s our best seller.”

Mikasa snapped out of her thought process to look at the speaker.

A young man with tawny hair and a flour dusted apron stood beside her.

“It’s made with real Belgian chocolate. I’ll guarantee your money back if you don’t like it,” he continued, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll take one then,” Mikasa replied.

The baker reached for a pair of plastic tongs he had with him, and placed the pastry in a plain paper bag.

“I’m Jean, by the way,” introducing himself with a hint of a French accent. He handed Mikasa her purchase, and she put a bill on the counter beside the bread stand.

“Mikasa.”

“Nice to meet you, Mikasa.”

She caught herself staring at Jean after he turned to attend to another customer. The warm _pan au chocolat_ in hand, Mikasa blushed a bit when her stomach growled a bit louder than usual.

Still standing in front of the display, she took a bite and was rewarded with thin layers of puff pastry, laced with dark chocolate. The delicate shell seemed to melt on her tongue, and was followed by a rich, intense flavour of the chocolate.

Mikasa closed her eyes in sheer delight.

“Good?”

Jean looked at her with a knowing smile.

She nodded.

“If you ever want another one on a weekday, give me a call. My friend Bertholdt runs a coffee shop…” Jean trailed off as he was writing his number on the back of a card.

Mouth full of chocolate and pastry, Mikasa swallowed and accepted the card.

The crowed had swelled and it was high time for her to head back. Sated, she thanked Jean and made her way out of the market.

Walking back to her apartment, she glanced down at the card he had given her, smudged with the cacao that was left on her fingers. Looking at the chocolate stained memento, she thought that her day went sweeter than expected.


End file.
